


Prom Night

by ConsultingHound



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Oblivious John, Prom, Teen for now but could go up if people wanted?, Teenlock, the idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingHound/pseuds/ConsultingHound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock does not want to go to Prom but is persuaded by John. While there John disappears and Sherlock gets some interesting advice. Will the night reveal much more than either boy expects?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prom Night

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: this Prom is set in/after Year 13 in the English school system which means John and Sherlock are both 18. Hope you enjoy!

The ballroom was loud, crowded and Sherlock hated it.

It wasn't enough that he'd had to endure 5 years seeing these same inane human beings everyday, no, of course there had to be some sort of cheap, tacky send off for them all, despite the fact they all still had exams to sit and would likely be keeping in contact over the summer. Plus the majority were now 18 and so were already mildly tipsy, making them even more pleasant.

"Oi, watch it Holmes," one idiot slurred as he stumbled into him, "What you doing, lurking by the door?"  

Oh good, he'd stopped for conversation, Sherlock internally sighed, turning to the confused looking boy.  He looked vaguely familiar but then again, didn’t everyone?  Judging by his physique he was on one of the sports teams and so could possibly be linked to John in some way.

"Avoiding people, obviously," he snarked back, hoping the oaf would lumber off. He'd only positioned himself as close to the door as possible in order to ensure a quick getaway option, which was now blocked.  However the other boy failed to take the hint and instead propped himself up on the wall next to Sherlock.

"You've always been a weird one. John likes you though so you can't be all bad I suppose," he said, waving his beer bottle.

"It's so nice to have your approval," Sherlock sighed, scanning the room. It was all well and good John liking him but where the hell was he? He'd only agreed to come if John didn't abandon him and now here he was, making small talk of all things.

“Yeah, always going on about you,” the boy continued as if Sherlock hadn’t spoken, “Most of us thought he was mad when he began hanging out with you but it seemed to make him happier, you know?”  

Sherlock didn’t ‘you know’ and was curious.  Perhaps this conversation could be more lucrative than first assumed. He scanned the tall brunette again, more critically, but saw much the same as his first assessment apart from one key detail: contains unknown information about John Watson.

“What is your name?” Sherlock asked, not even pretending to know.  

“Oh,  I’m William but everyone calls me Bill.” Sherlock was suddenly immensely glad his parents had agreed to refer to him by his second name, as requested, rather than give him such a horrifying nickname.

“I will be calling you William. Now why do you say happier? “ He had presumed that’d he’d had an adverse affect on John’s life following his arrival in Year 10 after an expulsion from his last school (Sherlock felt personally it was the school’s own fault for leaving the chemicals in an accessible place; the school argued that he’d sneaked into the store cupboard and was stealing chemicals for dangerous experiments).  John had given up much of his free time usually spent with his fellow rugby players to spend time with Sherlock, making sure people left him alone and generally giving much more than Sherlock felt he deserved.  However, this ‘William’ appeared to think otherwise.  

“Well, I don’t know,” the other boy shrugged, “Just seemed to relax more.  Not as uptight and worried about everything, though he said that was because most of his worry was taken up by you.  Is it true you stole part of a sheep from that butchers?”

“Nothing was ever proven,” Sherlock dismissed, storing the information.  He was beginning to get worried about the amount of John he had in his newly created Mind Palace, not even counting ‘that room’.

‘That room’ that was never going to be opened because it wasn’t like any of the sentiments stored in there were reciprocated and he’d tried deleting them but of course the bloody things resisted deletion and so Sherlock had stored them up and stuffed them in ‘that room’ and they were never getting out because he and John were friends and that was good enough for him, more than enough, more than anything and it wasn’t worth risking it all on a stupid wish now was it?  

“Yeah, that’s what John said,” Bill laughed, shaking his head and Sherlock’s heart stopped, thinking he’d unleashed his inner tirade to the outer world, before realising that the boy was referring to the sheep.  

The brunette glanced around and leaned in closer, Sherlock internally despairing at his attempt at subtlety,and, in what would only be loosely defined as a whisper, Bill said “I reckon he fancies you.”  

‘That room’ rattled at the words but Sherlock stoutly ignored it, willing it to settle.  

“I assure you, you are incorrect.  John has been quite clear in his sexuality,” he said, hopefully casually.

“You don’t sound too thrilled,” Bill smirked.  Obviously he hadn’t quite perfected the Holmesian ‘blank’ face just yet.  “However, I personally think that’s just a cover right?  So he can avoid all the bullshit that goes with it?”

‘That room’ began rattling again.  Sherlock resisted the urge to shake his head to get rid of it.  

“Also you don’t see the way he goes on about you all the time.  No offence but I think you’d be all he talked about if we let him ramble on.”

The door keeping ‘that room’ closed creaked  and groaned under the pressure.  

“So I think, you should go talk to him about it.  I mean, if you feel the same way right?”

A glow of light appeared under the door, a blinding flash that threatened to flood his Mind Palace if he let it out.  

“Thank you William.  You have been most enlightening,” Sherlock said absently, nodding as he moved away.  Last he’d seen, John was headed towards the bar area, after promising he’d bring Sherlock something back for him and so he headed in that direction, though he was in no rush.

There was a large probability William was wrong.  Most evidence pointed in that direction, with the string of ex-girlfriends and the dismissal of ‘Not Gay’, although both had been receding of late. Sherlock had assumed it was his ‘constant whining’ as John put it, that prevented John pursuing a new relationship but perhaps William’s idea had some merit.  Many people had suggested they were a couple before and they did spend an awful amount of time together.  Plus there were the feelings in ‘that room’ to consider, the ones carefully hidden by sarcasm and jokes but still lingering in every look, every word. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the warmth the idea gave him, allowed himself to imagine going up to John and confessing everything and-

Sherlock froze.  It was clear John had found the bar area.  He also appeared to be enjoying the attentions of several girls who were casually flipping their hair and giggling as if John were the best comedian in Britain.  John was wearing his best easy-going smile, the one that made Sherlock’s stomach clench and heart flutter.  But that smile was not intended for him was it?  No, it was for the leader of the pack encircling his John, clearly the most confident and bold.  She could even be considered beautiful, if you were into that sort of thing and from what he’d heard she was also charming and above all nice.  How hateful. Surely John would notice him stood near however and immediately come over and escape.

However when the unnamed flirtatious she placed her hand on John’s arm, Sherlock suddenly felt sick and spun on his heels, nearly crashing into Molly.  The mousy girl quickly glanced over to the bar before looking at Sherlock sympathetically.  Rather than staying to listen to her no doubt well-meaning advice, Sherlock swiftly apologised and carried on walking, until he was outside the building, in the empty outside seating area.

In the fresh, moonlit air he found it was a bit easier to breathe and the feeling of the stone walls he leant against helped ground him.  What an idiot he was for believing those words.  Obviously that other boy was merely slightly drunk and looking to stir up some trouble, not realising the effect he had.  Mycroft had warned him against sentiment, especially warning about allowing yourself to be caught up in dreams and wishes.  Wishes built you up for disappointment.  Better to be realistic and correct than chasing after an unattainable goal.  John had laughed at him when he’d said that, called him odd but in a way that one would talk about a puppy doing something adorable and that was where the trouble had started wasn’t it because if John wasn’t so indescribably _John_ then no one would have developed feelings for anyone else and this whole mess could have been avoided.  

“There you are.  Molly said she’d seen you heading this way.”  Sherlock snapped his eyes open, though he did not remember closing them, to see the object of his affections stood directly in front of him.  He had expected John to wear one of those ridiculous ill-fitting rented outfits but was the ever surprisable John had turned up to his house that evening wearing his grey waistcoat and suit trousers with a pale blue tie which suited him perfectly (Sherlock had opted for his usual suit affair with the plum-coloured top, John’s favourite).  Sherlock had felt his throat close up and breath hitch when he’d first seen him but quickly pulled himself together and now they were here and John was still looking perfect, if a bit ruffled but that was probably because he’d been mauled by one of those girls and Sherlock suddenly remembered why he was out here in the first place.    

“Felt like some air.”

John frowned at the clipped tone and moved closer,so he too was leaning on the wall.  Sherlock wondered for the second time why people had to keep blocking his exits.    

“Hey you okay?  No one giving you trouble are they?” John asked, concerned.  

“ _No_ and even if they were I don’t always need protecting. Don’t let me keep you from your _friends_. You appeared to be getting on rather well from what I saw.  Perhaps now you will stop ranting about being single.”

A flash of understanding lit John’s eyes.  Sherlock briefly panicked that he might get angry.  Or maybe that would be for the best.  But then John started laughing and  Sherlock turned away in a huff and slightly confused.

“Oh don’t get stroppy with me,” John warned, still giggling.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I assure you I am not.”

“Sherlock, come on, look at me.”  Sherlock berated himself for giving in but couldn’t deny John for long and so turned to face the blonde boy but was careful to look as unimpressed as possible. “It was only a harmless bit of talking, I promise.  Most of the girls were hoping to be introduced to some of my rugby mates, that’s all.” It was Sherlock’s turn to laugh but without humour.  

“Certainly didn’t look like it,” he said, turning slightly to look at the partially full car park.  He felt John looking at him but didn’t dare turn back again.  A part of him knew it shouldn’t bother him, wouldn’t bother normal friends but it did and he couldn’t help it.  After all, he’d never claimed to be normal.

“Sherlock.” John’s voice was softer, much to Sherlock’s surprise. He turned and absently wondered how they’d gotten so close to one another, always pushing the boundary of personal space.  John appeared to be gathering his courage and Sherlock opened his mouth question why. He was interrupted, however, by the warm, firm press of lips to his own, a gentle hand coming up to cup his face.  

‘That room’ burst open, sending light cascading around his Mind Palace, covering everything until only one thought remained, the only certainty.  John.  However, before he could react, the lips were retreating and he opened his eyes (when did he close them?) to see a very nervous looking John, looking fearfully up at him.  

“Um, I, um, don’t really, I mean,” he stammered, silenced by Sherlock’s already deep voice.

“John,” he sighed, still stunned and wondering if he was dreaming.  

The boy in question blinked and Sherlock couldn’t be sure but he was almost certain his pupils dilated.

“Yeah?” he asked, slightly breathlessly.

“Shut up,” Sherlock grinned, before  pulling John in for another kiss.  He could feel John’s reciprocant smile through their connected lips.  He opened his mouth slightly, deepening the kiss, turning them until John was the one pushed against the wall.  His adrenaline was spiking the thrill of the kiss and the possibility of being caught any moment. making his head spin.  A small noise escaped him as John tangled his fingers in his hair and added his tongue to the kiss and he relaxed into the touch.  It was odd, Sherlock noted, how John’s taste was somehow already familiar. Under the faint bitterness of alcohol, John was tea and toast and chemistry.  He was also abstract things:laughter and quiet rebellion and sunlight, moulded together to take form in one seemingly boring individual who was the exactly the opposite.  In a moment of perfect clarity, Sherlock realised John was everything he’d ever wanted wrapped up in human form and he was kissing him, slowly, as if savouring every brush of tongue or lips. As Sherlock pulled back, John dragged his teeth across Sherlock’s bottom lip, making him shiver.  Quicksilver eyes met deep blue and both boys struggled to regain their breath but were too reluctant to move away.

“I’ve got a free house for the weekend,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to break the moment but allowing a small smile to tug at his lips, “That’s if you wanted to, I mean-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” John cut him off, grinning, “Let’s get out of here.”

“God yes.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated and you can find me at consultinghound.tumblr.com


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